


Hell or High water

by bluefire301175



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alley Sex, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 10:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefire301175/pseuds/bluefire301175
Summary: John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple





	Hell or High water

There's cold and wet rainwater soaking into the tops of my shoes for the umpteenth time in the past 2 weeks. We're finally at a breaking point. A silent interlude before the lighting in your mind connects to its mark. You've been working on this case in earnest for the past few days, interspersed with some less than ideal number of minutes sprawled on the couch. Your underfed body feigning sleep while your brain worked to unravel the mess the last murderer left behind. I can hear the agitation in your mutterings and sighs. Can see it in the minute twitch of your fingers and lips. Begging for a cigarette to take the edge off. I close my eyes and in the moment I wonder if I could do that for you. Be that hit of nicotine. Your so called conductor of light. I can see myself, running hands down the clothed plane of your chest where you lay. Invading your lungs and filling your space. Can imagine the way your soft shirt would strain as you arched in surprise at the touch. At the unexpected intrusion. Pulling you simultaneously out of your mind and into your skin. I can feel your breath as it rushes from you in a mixture of surprise and heat. And as my mind sees your eyes open, registering my touch for the first time, I feel my own body recognize your gaze. Not in my mind's eye, but in the sitting room beyond the darkness of my eyelids.

I open my eyes to find yours looking back at me. And where normally you're observatory, picking apart my day in the way my hair looks or in the ink marks on my sleeves, now I find your gaze is like lava under the floor of the ocean. I can see where once your body was agitated, it's now relaxed. And you're watching me like an animal to its next meal.

"John"

Your voice breaks me out. Bringing me back to earth with no small amount of blood, rushing to my ears and further south. Did you figure out the murderer's motive? Or are you preparing to flay me open with another "while I'm flattered.."?

"Call Lestrade, tell him and his team to meet us at the warehouse where the last victim was found"

I'm caught up short by the request. Still reaquainting my mind with the reality of the sitting room. My weight in the chair all at once familiar and foreign to me.

"Wait what---Did you solve it then?"

I'm grappling at straws. Trying to divert your attention from my obvious tells.

The look you give me in return tells me your lack of reply is a generous gift.

\-----x-------

Lestrade, as it turns out, is not an early morning person. It's almost half past 2 in the morning when you recover the evidence needed to tie the suspect, a single, antique shopkeeper, to the murders of the 4 women. All of them were antique jewelry collectors who weren't exactly in the shop for anything more than jewelry much to the shopkeeper's dismay. If it hadn't of been for the partial indents of the class ring the suspect wore on 2 of the victims he would've gotten away with it. But you managed to find his mistakes with brilliance.

Now, while l rest against the police cruiser, you're giving lestrade your final statement. He's trying to be patient but it looks like you're being a prat as usual and pointing out everything he failed to notice.  
I even contemplate going to get you, just to spare everyone from being caught in the slow drizzle that will no doubt start to come down in sheets in another hour or so, when I see you coming towards me. You're all long legs and belstaff. Exuding smug contentment in the stretch of your spine.

"Come along John, we're done here"

I follow beside you. Matching your rhythm as you guide us home. I'd follow you into a wormhole for all that you are a comet to my trail.

We make it to the main street and I'm surprised to see a cab idling on the curb, presumably waiting for us. Normally it takes at least 10 minutes before a cab has the decency to stop at our call, especially at this hour. Not that I'm complaining. I'd rather wait than get a cabbie who's more eager for blood and poison than a tip. However, with the cold rain that's slowly sinking into my scalp, I'm more than grateful to slide into the warmth of the back seat. Your clothes radiating heat as you slide in next to me.

After getting in it's a relatively quiet ride. The rain has picked up a bit but not more than a moderate drizzle. I'm pretending to watch the drops work their way down the window while really I'm watching your reflection. I can see your limbs curved in on themselves. The mixes of ink blues and blacks, accentuating your pale skin. You're looking out the window too. Possibly running through the case in the way you do after every puzzle is solved. Organizing the pieces into your mental filing system. Or perhaps you're just as I am. Restless and still. Trying to rush out of yourself only to find you're too exhausted to move. Or maybe I'm being maudlin. Lost in a world where we are more than just best friends. In a place where I could have the freedom to touch and feel and taste. So lost in fact that I've failed to notice a few key things.

For one, the cab has stopped in where appears to be the opening to a covered alleyway. Atleast from what I can see through the heavy drops of rain now falling outside the window. I've missed almost all of the ride here. Wherever here is…

"Sherlock what are we-" I turn to question you, only to find you watching me. It's the same look as the one in the sitting room. Molten lava and cool ocean. I'm being dissected where I sit "-doing here?" I find the end of the question but apparently, it's a stupid one. As your response is another "Come along John" and you get out of the cab in a swirl of dark wool.  
I sit for what feels like a year. Contemplating on what could possibly be going through your head, but as I start I realize it doesn't really matter. I'd follow you through hell or high water. And it appears the high water comes now.

I get out, following in the general direction you went. Down the alley that smells strongly of standing rainwater and musk. I'm just reaching your back, where it seems you've stopped in your tracks, when you turn around.

"What's this all ab-mmph" You've crowded my back against the wall. I can feel your chest expand along my sternum.

"John"

I hear my name in a way that sounds like long lasting agony. I look up. Finding your eyes. "Sherlock?" I can see you in the dusky light, it makes you glow like the galaxy you are to me. You're giving all the signs I didn't think you were capable of. Elevated breathing, fast heart rate, dilated pupils, glazed eyes. I lick my lips, trying to calm myself. Keep from jumping to conclusions. But your eyes trace the movement of my tongue and I watch as you lower you face to my neck. I lose my steel core in an instant as I feel your breath ghost from my collarbone to my ear. I grab at your arms, keeping myself from swooning like a pubescent schoolgirl. I've wanted you too long, its making me lose even more of the sanity you hadn't already taken. You pause at my ear before running your cupids bow along the back. Leave it to you to know about an erogenous zone I didn't even know I had.

"John what made you even entertain the thought that I was the one driving YOU further to insanity? It took me twice as long to solve this case because I couldn't concentrate on anything but the less than appropriate thoughts playing on your face every time you looked at me."

You punctuate every other word with the slide of your warm tongue and sharp teeth on my earlobe. I can't even ponder how you could've known I was thinking that, not with how the sensation of your mouth on my ear has driven blood straight to my cock.

" I could hear you undressing me with your eyes John, could feel you wanting me to push you against a wall and simply. take." And at this I feel my back scrap against the brick behind me, and even with my jacket and shirt, the thought of the potential, the possibility of pain and bruising, pushed a sharp breath from my lips.

Your hands start to move. Traveling from my neck down my chest. Brushing at the buds there. I can hear the whimpers escaping my mouth but with the sound of the rain and the lack of audience in this weather I couldn't care less about how it sounds. I want it to sound like reverence. Like the highest worship resting on my tongue. Meanwhile, your hands have made it down to my hips. Holding fast and hard as I feel your erection grinding into the soft area of my stomach. All it takes then is a stretch of my toes and I can see where the lightning crackles behind your eyelids. We meet in the best way possible and it feels like danger all over again. My hands find where your neck is straining. Pushing your body out and in. Reveling in the sensation of our erections slotting together through too much treacherous clothing. I finally finally pull your mouth to mine. Tasting the bittersweet there. The months and months of waiting and wanting all pouring like rain in the Thames.

And then our floodgates break, mine before yours. And the warm semen in too tight trousers makes me feel 17 in a much too familiar way. But those minutes between me and you are glorious. Maddeningly sensitive in the aftershocks. And there's so much heat I can scarcely feel the cold at all. And I don't mind the water in my shoes one bit.  
As long as I can keep the weight of you pressed against me, I'll happily drown for as long as you hold me under.  
\------x------

"Sherlock…Sherlock, love, we're home"

I think you've dozed off a little bit. You're sleepy and warm against my shoulder and I could feel your breath against my neck in that shallow even rhythm of light slumber. At least we made it into another cab before daybreak. Heaven knows the press and your brother would have a field day if we'd been found. Lucky us I suppose.

I pay the cabbie and drag your body against me as I get out. You're maybe more than a little out of it. Long cases, no sleep, and post-coital bliss can do that to a man. Even the stubborn, psychopathic ones. But you need the sleep and I could never begrudge you of that.

I've gotten you up the stairs in a twist of clinging arms and legs. Pulling your rain heavy coat off is a challenge when you keep fighting to grab hold of me but with some work I manage to get that and your shoes off and make progress towards your bedroom. I toe open the door with my foot and lay you down on the bed. And the sight of you sprawled out is just too tempting. I run my hands down your chest the way I wanted to this morning, slowly and smoothly, with as much gentleness as I can muster with you. You shock me, when I go to pull my hand away and you catch my wrist, pulling my hand towards your mouth to lick a path up my palm. As your tongue curls around my finger, I see a sliver of your blue-green eyes cataloging my reactions, fighting through a haze of want mixed with drowsiness.

"Stay with me…please"

And if that alone didn't break my heart, the way you're looking at me, vulnerable and needy and begging to be held, just might.

"Sherlock I'll stay forever if you let me." You must know…have to know this isn't just a game for me.  
I've spent too long wanting you and missing you and loving you to settle for a fling.

In response I'm pulled onto the bed and into your arms. Your huff on the top of my head is worth its weight in 1000 declarations. And then I realize your lips are moving, saying my name over and over, like a prayer of salvation. And the realization finds my heart clawing its way out of my chest, because really how do you hold the feeling of your deity worshipping you back. Your lover and savior holding you as if YOU are the miracle. It's insane and blasphemous and utterly mind blowing

And In this last thought, before I finally drift off into the early morning hours with the warmth of you pressed against my back, I smile because I guess the time has come for me to follow you to hell too.

Through hell or high water indeed…

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing fic so be gentle please xx
> 
> Also I'm not satisfied with the ending but this was quick and dirty so...


End file.
